


The Undone and the Divine

by coldflashwavebaby



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe-Dracula, Barry is Mina, Blood Drinking, F/M, Kidnapping, Legends of Superflarroween, M/M, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Never thought I'd post a story with that tag, Reincarnation, Vampire Sex, happy halloween everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Dear Iris,              All is not well in Transylvania. Please, if you get this letter, send help. I am a prisoner in this castle. I’m forgetting who I am. I’m scared, Iris. I’m scared of what I could become if I stay here much longer. What does he want from me? What does he want me to become? I don't even know if you'll ever receive this letter, but I pray you do. If I never see you again, please know I love you all.
Barry Allen
 
(A Halloween Dracula AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

> My twisted Legends of Superflarroween story. (This is my first time writing smut, so be nice) Please enjoy!!!

Iris stared into her tea morosely as she sat at the breakfast table. Across the table, her father was tiredly picking at his eggs, his mind a thousand miles away. For the past ten months, life seemed dimmer in the West home. Ever since Barry disappeared. She looked over the last letter he sent again, hoping that there was some clue she hadn’t found the last three hundred times she’d read it.

 

_Dear Iris,_

_I am pleased to write that I have finally made it to Transylvania. The journey was longer than anticipated—an unexpected snowstorm delayed my train somewhere in Turkey for close to a week—but, oh, Iris, you would have loved it. The ship ride across the Pacific was gorgeous, and the carriage ride to Hong Kong, where I caught my train, was even more so._

_Transylvania, on the other hand, is somewhat dreary. My carriage took me into a small village at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains, one of the places I was planning to speak with people about the claims Dr. Wells had contacted me about, where I was to wait for another carriage to take me the rest of the way to the castle I will be staying in. When I approached the villagers, however, and told them my reasons for being there, they all paled with fright. Most of the people quickly hurried into their homes and closed their doors and shutters. One very old woman came staggering up to me with a rosary in her hand, solemnly speaking to me in Romanian._

_When I asked one of the English speakers what she’d said, he explained that she was warning me to never take the rosary off until I left Transylvania. I was glad when my carriage arrived, driven by a dark-haired woman who introduced herself as Gideon. The ride up the mountain and into the pass where the castle rested was almost an entire day’s worth, but we arrived just as the sun finished setting. Dr. Wells met me on the front steps and welcomed me inside._

_The castle is huge. It’s very old—Dr. Wells tells me that it’s been in his family for many years, yet he wouldn’t tell me the name of it. Strangely enough, after the first night, the rosary the old woman gave me was gone. I must have lost it somewhere on the castle grounds._

_Anyway, I am safe and sound in Transylvania. Tell Joe not to worry—Dr. Wells is taking very good care of me. I will be collecting stories for my article any day now, so I may not get to write as often as I’d like, but I promise to write if my situation changes. Please be safe, take care of Joe, and send Eddie my good wishes._

_Love,_

_Barry_

****

She ran her fingers across the sketched words. The letter had been sent nearly a year ago, and still Iris dreamt that another would come, explaining why Barry never wrote again, or better yet, that Barry would just show up at their door with a stupid smile and a _really_ good explanation.

Everyone blamed themselves for what happened. When he received the invitation to Transylvania, when he decided to go, they should have said something. They should have said no. They should’ve fought him about leaving. They should have gone with him.

Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve.

Except they didn’t. They allowed Barry to travel, alone, to a strange country. And now, he was gone.

Eddie entered the room, obviously worn out after a long night at the station. Iris cast him a small smile, arching her head back so her fiancé could give her a good morning kiss. She didn’t miss the fact that he was still dressed for work.

“Are you going back in?” She asked as her grabbed a piece of toast from the table.

Eddie nodded sheepishly. “Sorry. I know I said that I’d help out with finding Barry today, but another body popped up last night, and Singh is officially calling all hands on deck.”

Iris’ jaw dropped. “Another one? That makes the third one in the last two weeks.”

Eddie shrugged. “Some crazy is running around, kidnapping people and draining them of their blood. It happens.” He took a bite of his toast. “We could use some help back at the station, Joe, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Iris’ eyes slid over to her father, who pretended like he hadn’t even heard. When Barry disappeared, their captain, Singh, told him to take as much time off as he needed. So, he took a leave of absence, which was meant to help him grieve, but instead, her father used nearly every moment of it to find Barry. They’d even taken a trip to Transylvania two months after Barry was officially declared missing, but they didn’t know exactly where Barry had gone besides the Carpathian Mountains, which, as they found out, is the second longest mountain range in Europe. It would’ve taken months to search it all, and even then, there was no assurance that they would find him.

Clumsy footsteps approaching the kitchen drew her attention. “Good morning.” She turned to see Cisco Ramon trip into the room, his hair sleep ruffled, but his eyes twinkling.

After Barry’s letters stopped coming, Cisco and his master had been the first red flag that something was terribly wrong. After all, there was no way that Dr. Harrison Wells could be in Transylvania with Barry when he was actually in Central City with his apprentice giving a lecture at the local college. Once the noted scientist found out from Joe that someone was impersonating him, the doctor insisted that he stay close to them and help find Barry.

Which would’ve been great, if the man weren’t such a douche. But, Cisco was nice, and Dr. Wells really had been a great help so far, despite his social flaws.

Cisco took the seat beside Iris and gave Eddie a once over. “Going to work again? Damn, they make sure you earn your pay in Central.”

Eddie shook his head with a chuckle. “I really do have to go.” He reminded them, glancing down at his watch. He pecked Iris once more. “I love you. I’ll be home as early as I can.”

He rushed out of the kitchen with a smile, and Iris, despite herself, smiled back genuinely. Eddie did have a way of making everything feel like it was alright. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

She was about to return to her breakfast when she heard the door open, followed by a thump and a loud gasp. “Iris! Joe! Cisco!”

She practically flew out of her seat towards the front door, her father at her heels and Cisco not too far behind. In the front hall, she could hear Eddie talking quietly.

He was still in the doorway of the house, his back to them, with something cradled in his arms. She stepped closer, and she could see the top of a brunette head, and legs pointed out the door. Hearing her approach, Eddie turned frantically.

“Call for Dr. Snow!” He ordered. “He’s still alive!”

The way he turned, Iris could finally see what—or rather _who_ —was crumpled in his arms. He was paler than he had been, his hair a few inches longer, with fancier clothes on than she’d ever seen him wear, but there was no doubt in Iris’ mind. Laying in Eddie Thawne’s arms, after nearly a year, was Barry Allen.

0000000

When Barry woke up, he was lying in his own bed, in his home in Central. He frowned as he tried to sit up, but the room spun the moment his head left the pillow.

            “Barry.” He turned in surprise. Dr. Caitlin Snow, who was sitting in the far corner of the room, was leaping to her feet, the book she’d been reading discarded to the floor as she ran to the bedside. “You’re awake. How are you feeling? Any weakness? Nausea? I may need your urine for tests.”

            The urge to laugh filled Barry, but it was pushed down by his confusion. His head was pounding—what happened?

 Everything was still fuzzy. He remembered…he remembered receiving a letter from a concerned villager in a small region in Romania called Transylvania in response to an article he’d written on scientific explanations to supernatural occurrences. The letter concerned a local legend that terrorized the region—a creature that could turn into a bat, a wolf, fog…one that drained the villagers’ lifeblood to survive…

            The man, a well-known scientist and doctor named Harrison Wells, invited him to stay in his home to write about the creature, but other than accepting the invitation, Barry couldn’t remember a thing that happened afterwards.

            He remembered finding it odd that someone in such a remote part of the world would read his small article that Barry was sure would’ve had him laughed out of town if most of the people in Central didn’t know about his eccentrics already. However, Dr. Harrison Wells explained in his letter that he was a worldly man with contacts in many different countries, including America, and that’d been that for Barry.

            “What…what happened?” He heard himself croak. His throat was as rough as rocks. His eyes were still low and heavy. Had he fallen ill before he could leave on his trip for Transylvania?

            Caitlin filled the empty glass on his bedside table with water from the pitcher and brought it to his lips. Barry sipped carefully, not wanting to make a mess or choke. Once he was satisfied, the glass was returned to the stand, and Caitlin perched on the edge of his bed. The young doctor brushed the hair off his forehead in a motherly he’d come to expect from her after years of friendship. 

            “What do you remember?”

            Barry shrugged. “I sent a letter to Dr. Wells, accepting his invitation to Transylvania. I was making preparations for my journey. Did I fall ill before I could leave?”

            Caitlin’s lips pursed, the concern she’d kept hidden now clearly written across her face. “Barry, you left to go on your trip. A few weeks later, we lost contact with you; no one knew where you were, and when Joe and Iris went to find you, the villagers kept told them you were as good as dead. That was almost a year ago.”

            Barry’s world crashed to a stop. “A _year_?” He tried to sit up again, but his body was so weak, his arms gave way before he could.

            Caitlin nodded. “The courts were going to pronounce you dead next week, but then a few days ago, Eddie was leaving for work, and you were standing on the front stoop. Apparently, you collapsed into his arms. You’ve been asleep ever since.” She bit her lip worriedly. “It gets worse.”

            Barry’s mouth dried out. “What do you mean?”

            She leaned forward and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “After you disappeared, we sent letters searching for anyone that knew anything about Harrison Wells. We received word from an apprentice of his, Cisco Ramon, claiming that Dr. Harrison Wells has never lived in Transylvania, and that he’s been giving lectures at universities around America during the first six months you were gone.”

            Barry’s frown deepened. “What?”

The doctor clasped his hand in her own. “Barry, the man you were staying with wasn’t Dr. Wells. We don’t know who you were staying with, or what happened. I was hoping maybe you could tell us.”

            He swallowed hard, thinking back to what happened after the letter. All he could picture, though, was a flash of gold, a pair of red eyes, and melancholic song that vibrated through his body. Besides that, his memories of the past year were nearly blank.

0000000

Iris paced outside of Barry’s bedroom door nervously. Caitlin had been examining him for close to an hour, not allowing anyone in to see him just in case it overwhelmed him. Her father had insisted on going in anyway, which Caitlin had allowed reluctantly.

            The sound of someone approaching down the hall made her halt, but it was only Dr. Wells rounding the corner, his hands jammed into the pockets on his tailored trousers, an assessing gleam in his eye.

            “Has Snow cleared him yet?” He asked, straight to the point as ever. Iris resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

            “If she had, would I still be standing out here?” She flinched inwardly at her snappish tone—she may have been on edge, but that was no reason to take it out on Wells, no matter how insufferable she could find him.

            The doctor, however, breathed a laugh. “Touché.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall across from the door. “I’d like to ask Mr. Allen some questions about his time in Transylvania once Snow gives the okay, if that’s alright with you and your father.”

            Iris knew he wasn’t actually asking for permission, but she shrugged anyway. “Ask away, but according to Caitlin, Barry doesn’t remember Transylvania.”

            If Wells was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Nevertheless, I would like to speak to him when I can. He may remember more than he knows.”

            Before Iris could respond, the door cracked open, and Caitlin slid out. Both Iris and Wells’ attention fixed on the doctor, who cleared her throat.

            “Barry is weak and malnourished. It seems that his body is fighting some kind of virus he may have picked up overseas. I’d like to stay a few days to keep an eye on him, but otherwise, I believe he’s going to be fine.”

            Iris sighed with relief. After a year of thinking her brother could be dead or dying, there was no better sound than being told that he was going to be okay. “Can we see him?”

            Caitlin nodded. “I would try not to ask too many questions.” Her eyes darted to Wells. “His mind is fighting against his memories, so pushing will only distress him.”

            Iris nodded, but Wells just stepped around her to walk inside. She followed, eager and fearful to see her brother. When she stepped inside, her heart fluttered.

            Barry was sitting up in bed, his back leaned against the headboard. Her father was sitting in the chair at his bedside, calmer than Iris had seen him in a long time. They were talking in low whispers, both smiling tiredly. Iris could tell he’d been through hell—his skin was pale, his eyes clouded over, his body near gaunt, but he was there and alive, something Iris had worried she’d never be able to say again.

            When Barry looked up at her entering, his entire face lit up. “Iris.”

            She couldn’t hold back anymore. She practically threw herself onto the bed to wrap her arms around her brother. Barry hugged her back with slightly less enthusiasm, but she knew that, for Barry, it’d only been a day at the most since he last saw her.

            “Iris,” she heard her father chuckle. “Let him breathe.”

            She pulled away, but instead of climbing off the bed, she crawled over to sit beside Barry. It’d been a year since she saw her brother, and she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight unless Caitlin made her.

            Wells, who’d been waiting patiently by the door, cleared his throat loudly. Barry turned his attention to the doctor, his face showing no recognition. Well, there went Joe’s early theory that Wells had kidnapped him and rushed back to Central to have an alibi. It was crazy, but most of the theories they started coming up with were. Wells strode towards the bed with both caution and confidence, if that was possible, his hands clasped behind his back as always.

            “Mr. Allen.” He nodded his head. “My name is Dr. Harrison Wells—the _real_ Dr. Harrison Wells.”

            Barry flinched at the name, but nodded back. “It’s a pleasure to actually meet you, Dr. Wells.”

            “I was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions of mine, about your travels and return home.”

            Barry raised an eyebrow, his eyes shifting to Iris for a second. “Umm…I guess. I mean, I don’t really remember a lot…or anything for that matter.”

            Wells nodded in understanding, but remained where he was. “I really only have one question to ask at the present moment, actually. Where did those scars on your neck come from?”

            Iris and Barry both startled. Neither had been expecting Wells to ask something like that. In fact, Iris hadn’t even noticed any scars. She turned towards her brother to look, and lo and behold, there were two round scars in Barry’s neck, about the size of a fingertip. She frowned. “Oh my god, Barry. I’ve never seen those before.”

            She reached over to run her fingers across them, but faster than she could blink, Barry’s hand shot up to grab her wrist. For a split second, there was an intense expression on his face, daring anyone to touch the wounds. Then, it passed.

            “I don’t know where they came from.” Barry replied quietly, uncurling his fingers from around Iris’ arm. “Sorry…”

            Wells was the only one that didn’t seem surprised by Barry’s reaction. Instead, the corner of his lips twitched up. “Of course. My apologies.”

            Barry didn’t respond, though. Instead, his eyes locked onto the bedspread, his mind miles away as he raised a hand to touch the marks almost subconsciously. He paled, which is when Caitlin decided to step in.

            “I think Barry needs to rest.” She announced. “I recommend that he stay in bed for the next few days, until whatever virus is in his body passes. Only one visitor at a time—so two of you need to leave.” Her eyes darted towards Wells, who gave her a small bow.

            “Of course, Dr. Snow.” He strode back to the door, but paused once his hand was on the handle. He glanced back, obviously waiting for whoever was going to leave with him.

            Iris’ father pushed to his feet. “I guess that’s my cue, too. You get some rest, Bare.” He leaned down to kiss Barry on the forehead, something that Iris had only seen him do on rare occasions, and followed Wells out.

            Caitlin came to the bed, and the two of them helped Barry settle back into a comfortable position to sleep. “I’ll be in the room next door all night if you need me.” The doctor reminded them as she turned to leave. “Please, get some sleep. _Both_ of you.”

            Once the door closed, Barry rolled to his side, throwing his arm around Iris’ waist. “Please don’t leave.” He whispered, his eyes slipping closed.

            Iris sighed. “Of course not, Bare. I’ll be here all night.” And she was, eventually falling asleep with Barry’s head pillowed on her shoulder and her arms wrapped around him like she could protect him from the horrors he must have seen in the past year.

0000000

            _“Barry…Barry…dragul meu…”_

Barry’s eyes snapped open. The feeling of contentment that had been blanketed over him as he slept shattered, and suddenly, his heart was cold with fear. His body burst with energy, and he needed to get away. _He needed to escape._

            “Hey, hey, hey!” A hand touched his shoulder. He spun around, ready to swat away the hand, but another started running through his hair, calming him. “You’re okay. You’re home, and you’re safe. Count to ten with me—one…”

            “One…” Barry panted. When had he started hyperventilating?

            “Two…three…” Barry repeated the numbers back until his breathing regulated. His guest removed his hands and took a seat beside him, a kind smile on his lips.

            “Iris had some errands to run today, so she asked me to stay with you until you woke up.” He informed Barry. “Cisco Ramon, by the way. I’m Dr. Wells’ apprentice, though sometimes I feel like his lackey.”

            Barry chuckled. “I’m Barry. But I guess you know that.”

            “Yeah, I’ve heard of you here and there.” Cisco joked. The two shared a laugh. “Do you get nightmares a lot?”

            Barry’s good mood faded into confusion. “No, actually.” He frowned. “Not in a really long time. I don’t dream that much, to be honest.”

            Cisco raised an eyebrow. “Well, you were shouting out in some other language.” Shock filled Barry. He didn’t know any other languages. Cisco shrugged. “Yeah, you were saying something like, ‘drago mu’, or something. I didn’t recognize it, though I only speak Spanish and English. Dr. Wells might know, but he doesn’t teach me languages a lot.”

            Barry rested his head back onto his pillow. How could he speak a language without knowing he was? “What time is it?”

            “Almost six.”

            Barry’s jaw dropped. “At night? Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

            Cisco scoffed. “Hey, you’ve been through a traumatic experience, even if you can’t remember it. Your body needs sleep, so it can heal and fight whatever the hell it’s fighting off.”

            The ringing of the front bell drew the two’s attention, and Barry, out of habit, moved to get out of bed. Cisco held out a hand to stop him. “Whoa, there. I’m pretty sure that everyone said ‘rest’, not hop out of bed to greet guests.”

            Barry moved around Cisco anyway to climb to his feet. “It’s fine. I’m not leaving the house—I just don’t want to hang around my room all night, especially not when there’s someone paying a visit.”

            He pulled a pair of trousers on under his nightshirt and threw a jacket over it to seem somewhat presentable. Cisco was biting his lip nervously.

            “Fine.” He acquiesced. “But if Dr. Snow or anyone else gets mad, I expressly told you not to and tried to stop you.”

            Barry laughed as he exited the room. He could already feel that he and Cisco were going to be good friends. He limped down the stairs towards the sound of voices, one of which was clearly Eddie.

            “This is actually the home of my fiancé’s father.” He could hear him explaining. “He’s been gracious enough to let us stay while we look for a home suitable for our needs.”

            “That’s very kind of him.” A voice replied, and Barry froze on the stairwell.

            _“Mr. Allen, not everything in the world makes sense. Nor is it always what it seems.”_

_“You missed the beauty of the Harvest Moon.”_

_“Only a few more months, dragul meu. A few more months…and then nothing shall part us.”_

Barry shook the words free from his mind. They were snippets of mad dreams, nothing more. He finished his descent into the foyer, where Eddie stood with another man. The man turned when he heard Barry enter, and once again, he felt the urge to freeze. There was something about the man. Something striking and familiar, that made Barry want to both run as far away as he could and wrap himself around the man and never let go. Their eyes met, and it was like he was inside of Barry’s mind. A small smirk stretched onto the man’s lips. That was when Eddie noticed his presence, concern taking the place of his polite smile when he turned to see who had taken his cousin’s attention.

            “Barry.” He rushed to his future-brother-in-law’s side. “Didn’t Dr. Snow tell you to take it easy and rest for a few more days?”

            Barry laughed weakly, brushing off Eddie’s concern. “I’m fine, really. You’re as bad as Cisco. I haven’t left the house; I just needed to get out of my room for a bit, and I heard the bell and assumed we were entertaining. I thought it rude to laze around upstairs when we have a guest.”

            This brought Eddie’s attention back to the fact that there was someone else in the room, and he cleared his throat. “Right, excuse my manners. Count, this is my future-brother-in-law, Bartholomew Allen. He’s been resting after returning home from a… _trying_ year. Barry, this is my distant cousin, Count Eobard Thawne. He’s recently moved here from Europe, and he wanted to meet the family he has here in America.”

            Count Thawne smiled and extended a hand to Barry. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Allen.”

_Mr. Allen…Mr. Allen…_ The words reverberated through Barry’s head, but he took the hand, regardless. “It’s Barry. Everyone calls me Barry.”

            The smile on Thawne’s face grew. “Of course, Barry.”

            It was then Barry realized that they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. He pulled away quickly, hoping he didn’t offend the man. By the smile on his face, it seemed that Count Thawne either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. The sound of the garden door opening and closing drew their attention.

            “That must be Iris and the others.” Eddie said, his polite smile returning. “We should go wait for them in the sitting room. I’m sure they’ll all be eager to meet you, and I’m sure Barry needs to sit down.”

            Now that he mentioned it, the room was spinning slightly. He felt his body sway, but a hand on his arm steadied him. Count Thawne gave him a small nod, and Barry’s cheeks heated up. The count walked Barry into the sitting room, helping him down on the emerald settee. Eddie took a seat in the chair beside it, but Thawne hovered around the furniture, eyes darting around every inch of the room.

            “Eddie?” Iris called out from across the house.

            “In the sitting room!” The blonde answered, rising to his feet when his future wife entered. The two lovebirds embraced as Joe and Dr. Harrison Wells entered behind her.

             Count Thawne stiffened at the sight of them, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. “Joe, Iris, Dr. Wells, this is my cousin, Eobard. He’s recently moved to Central from Europe and wanted to visit the family he has here.”

            Barry watched as the count forced himself to relax, taking Iris by the hand and kissing her knuckles, before moving on to shake Joe’s hand. When he came to Wells, however, Thawne tensed yet again.

            “Mr. Thawne.” Wells greeted, a suspicious gleam in his eye.

            “Count Thawne, actually.”

            Wells raised an eyebrow. “Apologies. Where in Europe did you say you were from?”

            A cold smile stretched across the count’s face. “I didn’t.”

            The two stayed stock still, glaring coldly at one another as a stiff silence filled the room. Joe broke it by clearing his throat.

            “Dr. Wells here has been staying with us for a few months now. It seems that someone was impersonating him overseas.”

            Thawne’s face molded to one of shock. “That’s tragic, Dr. Wells. I hope that they catch the fraud.” He sounded sincere, but Wells’ face read that he didn’t believe him.

            This time, Eddie decided to step between the two men. “Would either of you like a cigar?” He edged over to one of the side tables and opened the wooden cigar box on top. When he reached down to grab one, Eddie froze.

            “Dr. Wells,” He called out, focusing on the small mirror on the lid of the box. “Why don’t you come pick out your own cigar? I know how particular you are.”

            Wells seemed confused, but acquiesced. Whatever Eddie saw, however, Wells seemed to notice as well. The doctor, though, was better at faking than Eddie, and grabbed a cigar from the box quickly before snapping it closed. He rounded on the count with a smirk.

            “So, Count Thawne,” he placed the cigar between his lips, “what prompted you to move all the way to Central City?”

            The hair on the back of Barry’s neck stood up, and he knew that the count, now standing behind the settee, was staring at him. “I wanted the city life.” The count answered. “The buildings, the opportunities, the people…” Thawne’s hand dipped down the back of the couch enough that his fingers brushed against the back of Barry’s neck.

            Barry’s breath caught in his throat at the contact, but no one else seemed to notice.

            “America is the home of the free and the land of plenty. It seemed the right place to settle.” Thawne concluded, stepping back from the couch. Barry hissed in a breath. Why was Thawne affecting him this way? Obviously, the man was pleasant to look at—after all, he was related to Eddie. But Barry had never felt so strongly towards someone as he did towards Eddie’s strange cousin. There was a pull between them he couldn’t explain, but also a fear lingering in his stomach, like the count knew more than he was letting on, and people would get hurt because of it.

            “Barry, are you alright?”

            He hadn’t realized that he shut his eyes, or that he was cradling his head. When he looked up, everyone in the room was watching him with a mixture of concern and fear for him. A hand fell to his shoulder, and his eyes raised to Eobard Thawne, who wore a mask of the same emotions. His eyes, though, told a different story. If anything, he was almost gleeful. It made Barry shiver.

            “Perhaps you should retire back to your room, Mr. Allen.” He suggested, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “You’re not looking very well at all.”

            Barry tried to reply, but his mouth just hung open stupidly.

            “Maybe he’s right.” Iris spoke up, taking Barry’s arm and helping him to his feet. “I’ll take you back to your room and let Dr. Snow check over you.”

            Barry shook his head, his eyes still locked on Count Thawne. “No, no. I’m fine. I want to stay down here.”

            “I’ll help you, Ms. West.” There was a definite smile on Thawne’s face now, and he stepped forward to take Barry’s other arm. Before he could, though, Eddie jumped forward to take it instead.

            “No, let me help. You’re our guest.”

            A murderous fire ignited in the count’s eyes, and Barry was sure that Eddie or Iris probably saw it too. A split second later, it was gone, a neutral expression taking its place. “Of course.” He backed away from Barry, who felt a pull to follow, but Iris and Eddie both started moving him towards the stairs. All the way back to his room, he could feel Thawne’s attention on him, like a ghost following him step for step.

0000000

      _Dear Iris,_

_All is not well in Transylvania. There have been strange things happening since I sent my last letter—faces watching me from my bedroom windows, screams that echo through the mountain pass in the middle of the night, guests that arrive but never leave._

_Then, just the other night, I discovered something terrible about my host. I know that he has kept all of the letters I’ve written instead of sending them, and I found his terrible secret. I refuse to write it into my letter—to do so would put you in grave danger—but please, if you get this letter, send help. I am a prisoner in this castle._

_I’m forgetting who I am. Sometimes, I write my name over and over, just to remind myself I am not who he claims I am. I’m scared, Iris. I’m scared of what I could become if I stay here much longer. What does he want from me? What does he want me to become? Most days, I am living in a fog, my mind a toy for him to play with. I don’t know what is truth and what are his lies anymore. I’m not completely sure if my life in Central was real anymore. Are you real, Iris? Is anything I remember of my life reality?_

_The one thing I find grounding me through this experience is the thought of home, despite what my captor—that’s what he remains in my lucid moments, no matter what he assures me as he toys with my mind—tries to manipulate. This man…this monster has a wicked plan for me. I fear that he will come after you, Joe, and Eddie soon. Please, I beg you to stay safe. I wish I could say more, but fear of getting caught writing this stills my hand. I don't even know if you'll ever receive this letter, but I pray you do. If I never see you again, please know I love you all._

_Barry Allen_

__

0000000

            He spent the rest of the night, and most of the next day, in bed. Caitlin ordered him to stay there and rest until his fever broke, locking the door behind her when she left. Unfortunately, Barry’s illness seemed to have no end in sight. He was hot all over, yet shivering in his bedclothes. Nothing felt right—his skin was hypersensitive to everything that touched it. His clothes rubbed roughly against his back, the pillows too much pressure against his head. Everything was wrong.

            Every so often, images would form in his head, like the memory of a long-forgotten dream. 

            _The room was large, round, and dark; only the moon outside cast a light. It was sparse of almost all furnishing, save two wooden chairs in front of the dead fireplace and the elegant canopy bed Barry was sprawled across. The sheets were silky smooth against his naked skin. He closed his eyes to take in the sensation. The room was cool enough from the mountain air blowing through the tall, open windows to send a chill across Barry’s body, but something in his blood was keeping him warm enough that he felt no need to cover up._

_A familiar shiver crept across him, and he knew that he was no longer alone. He smiled. There was only one person who would be in his room._

_“My love…”_

_He opened his eyes slowly, meeting a pair of calculating eyes, watching him from behind the billowing, sheer curtains around the bed. The man watching him moved closer, walking around the bed until he was at Barry’s side. He pulled back the curtain slowly, his eyes never leaving Barry’s face._

_The man sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to stoke his fingers along Barry’s face. “Dragul meu.” He whispered, dipping his head low so that his lips caressed Barry’s._

_Barry whimpered, wanting so badly to surge up and take his love’s lips. In his memory, the other man’s face was blurred and vague, almost like it was being blocked from his mind. Barry didn’t care though. His love’s hand was sliding down his neck and collarbone now. Usually, Barry was shy from any attention paid to his bare body. Now, however, he wanted to be explored and touched and loved._

_His breathing picked up. “E…” he panted. “E…Eob—”_

Then, just like that, the memory evaporated. Barry opened his eyes, not even realizing he shut them. He sat up. Night had already fallen.

            His room was darker than it had been the last time Caitlin had come in to check on him. The candles that she lit on the other side of the room were blown out, leaving only the few around his bed. His window was open—maybe a strong wind blew them out? It must have gotten colder out. A fog had crept into his room from the window, leaving half of his room in a mist.

            “Hello?”

            He didn’t know why he felt the urge to call out. There was no sign of anyone else in his room. But something was off. He wasn’t alone.

            A voice from the mist and shadows confirmed his suspicion. “Buna, dragul meu.”

            Barry wasn’t sure how he knew that his visitor had just said _“Hello, my love”_ , but he responded in perfect Romanian. 

_“You’ve returned for me.”_

            The man in the shadows chuckled. _“Did you ever have any doubts I would?”_

Footsteps echoed towards him. Barry’s entire body lit up like an electrical storm. When his visitor stepped into the dim light, Barry wasn’t surprised to see Count Eobard Thawne smiling down at him. In fact, for some odd reason, he was overjoyed.

            _“My dearest love.”_ Barry reached an arm out for the count, who stepped forward and took it without hesitation. _“I am confused and lost. I can’t…I can’t remember…”_

The count shushed him gently, pressing a finger to his lips. _“I am here now. I will make everything clear again.”_

Barry nodded, and the count swooped forward to bring their lips together.

 

            _The journey to Transylvania had been long and tedious. From the days long boat ride, to the orient train ride, and finally the treacherous carriage ride through the mountains, all Barry wanted was to settle down at Dr. Wells’ home and collapse on a nice, soft bed._

_When he arrived in the village on the outskirts of the pass where the castle was located, however, the villagers gave him warnings and omens. They told him about the monster that came down from the mountain pass, taking villagers and killing them, or worse—turning them into another blood-thirsty beast. Barry drank in the stories, but paid the warnings no mind. After all, Dr. Wells wouldn’t have invited Barry if he hadn’t thought it was safe._

Barry moaned deeply, his hand curling around the back of Eobard’s neck to dig his fingers into the count’s hair and pull him closer.

 

            _It was another day of travel before Barry arrived at the castle. Dr. Harrison Wells was waiting on the front steps when he climbed out, the bright lantern in his hand cutting through the thick darkness of the moonless night._

_“Mr. Allen.” Dr. Wells greeted. “I must say, I expected you a week earlier. You had me quite worried. You missed the beauty of the Harvest Moon.”_

_The carriage man took Barry’s luggage into the castle while Dr. Wells motioned for Barry to follow him inside. The inside of the castle was vast and elegant. There was some dust and cobwebs here and there, but the castle was far from disrepair and clearly old enough to have been in Dr. Wells’ family for quite some time._

_“Sorry about that.” Barry replied. “We were stopped by snowfall before we even reached Istanbul and were delayed.”_

_Dr. Wells cast a slightly annoyed, yet understanding look back at him, before covering it with a grin. “I guess that means that you’ll stay extra time to make up for it.” He teased, leading him up the dark wood stairs._

_Barry smiled back. “Perhaps I will.”_

The count was now on the bed with Barry, devouring his lip, allowing the hand not holding him up to wander up and down his body. It was like every nerve on Barry’s body was heightened—every touch was too much, yet not enough. He arched up into Eobard’s body.

 

            _The first month in Dr. Wells’ home was mostly dedicated to getting the lay of the house, including the doctor’s habits. The man was a regular night owl—he stayed up all hours of the night, reading or busying himself in some way, and then slept all through the day. Barry had been forced to change his own sleep schedule just to keep up with him._

_He was given full reign of the castle while Dr. Wells slept, except for one wing of the castle. When Barry asked why, Dr. Wells smiled. “That’s where my room and private study are. They are the only areas I like to keep to myself.”_

_Barry respected this, making a promise to stay out._

_Not long after arriving, Dr. Wells showed Barry the library, inviting him to enjoy it whenever he wished. Barry often found himself taking the doctor up on that, spending hours leafing through old science journals or novels, or researching for his article. One day when he entered, Eobard was waiting for him inside, a chessboard set out in front of him._

_“You mentioned that you used to play at dinner.” The doctor explained. “I thought that perhaps we could get to know one another by playing a few games.”_

_Barry had graciously accepted, taking the seat across from Dr. Wells with a grin. The following game was one of the most fun that Barry had ever played. Sure, Dr. Wells had beaten him terribly, but the conversation they’d shared was stimulating and indulging. He noticed the way the doctor’s eyes lingered on him, tracing his every feature with curiosity and…well, something Barry was sure he was reading far too much into._

_After all, they were both men. Just because Barry appreciated the male form as equally as the female didn’t mean that all others did the same. But there was a fire in Dr. Wells’ eyes that said maybe he’d been right._

Hands were slipping up Barry’s night shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it carelessly to the floor. Barry sighed, relieved to be free from the uncomfortable material. When the count dragged his blunt nails down, he choked out a moan. 

 

            _Before leaving Central, Barry’s dreams were few and far between. Occasionally, he dreamed of his long dead parents, memories he’d thought long forgotten, but most of the time, his sleep was deep and uninterrupted by nighttime fantasies._

_From his first night in Dr. Wells’ castle, Barry started dreaming. He dreamed of walking alone through the hallways of the castle. He dreamed of the wolves howling outside his window. On one memorable occasion, he dreamed of a man locked away in one of the rooms of the castle, chained up and gagged, eyes pleading for help. But when Barry checked the room later, there was no sign of anyone having been in there._

_His dreams grew stranger over the next few months. Sometimes, he’d dream of Dr. Wells standing in his room at the open windows, staring back at him with an amused smirk. Other times, he’d dream he was in a different bedroom entirely, with Dr. Wells beside him, brushing his fingers across his face. The dreams became more intense as the weeks passed, and even in his waking moments, he sometimes found himself in a daze whenever the doctor was around. Sometimes, he’d catch himself standing too close, or accidentally leaving inappropriate lingering touches. Dr. Wells didn’t seem to mind, or frankly notice, but Barry found himself blushing every time it happened._

            “Eobard…” He gasped as Thawne kissed down his jaw towards his neck. Barry turned his head to expose the pale line of his throat, the same side where the strange scars were. Pleasure shot through Barry’s body as the count ran his tongue over the two marks.

 

            _There was another dream—this time, Barry was in the library, writing a letter to Iris, when he heard the door open. Harrison—when had Barry started referring to him by his first name? —swept into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Barry smiled at him, wondering if maybe the doctor wanted to play another game of chess. The focused expression on his face told him differently._

_“Buna, dragul meu.”_

_The moment the words left the doctor’s mouth, it was like something inside of Barry clicked. He rose slowly from his seat and edged around the desk, his eyes not leaving Harrison’s. His breathing was heavy as he stepped into the doctor’s space. A small smile grew on Harrison’s face as Barry leaned in closer._

_Harrison reached up to cup Barry’s face in his hands. Barry gasped, a name leaving his mouth that he’d never heard, but felt right. “Eobard…” His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head to the side. There was a tickle as lips traced down the side of his neck, then sharp teeth scraped their way back up…_

A punched gasp escaped Barry’s lips as a sharp pain shot through his neck. He could hear sucking and slurping against his skin. He bucked up against Eobard’s body, but the count’s nails dug into his hips and pinned them to the bed as he drank.

            His mind fought, telling him to push the count away, to break free from whatever spell was over him. He groaned and pushed at Eobard’s shoulder in a weak attempt to throw him off, but the count just released his hips, grabbed both of his hands, and held them against the pillows. He sucked harder on Barry’s neck, and a strange pleasure shuddered down his body.

            Barry felt his body growing weaker the more the count drank. His eyes began to droop closed, his mind grew foggy. Eobard pulled free at that point, licking around the two throbbing wounds on Barry’s neck, and sat up.

            _“My sweet Barry Allen.”_ He cooed. Barry could see fresh blood dripping down his chin, and the tips of red-stained fangs were peeking out between his lips. _“My love.”_

Barry’s heart fluttered in his chest as his body relaxed, though his mind was still fighting to break free. He coaxed Barry to sit up as he rolled his right sleeve up to his elbow. Barry watched confused as Eobard dug his pointed fangs into his own arm. When he removed them, his arm was dripping black blood. He held it out to Barry.

            “Only three nights left, dragul meu.” He whispered in English. “Only three nights of the Blood Moon. Drink now, and we will spend an eternity together.” Against his better judgement, Barry took Eobard’s arm in his hands and raised it to his mouth. Before his lips could touch the skin, however, there was loud banging on his door.

            “Barry!” He heard Joe shout through the door. “Barry, can you hear me?”

            It was like the fog around his mind had dropped. He gasped and dropped the arm, horrified.

            “Barry, what’s going on in there?” He could hear Iris call out.

He couldn’t answer, his heart pounding with fear now that the count’s spell over him had shattered. Now, he could see the monster above him.

            The beating on the door grew louder and louder, until finally the door crashed open, and Joe, Wells, Iris, Eddie, and Cisco all fell inside. Eobard leapt from the bed and hissed, and Wells jumped forward, crucifix raised, splashing something from an open flask in the count’s direction. Eobard howled, his skin sizzling as though the liquid was boiling.

            He glanced back at Barry, curled up fearfully on the bed, one last time, before his body transformed before their eyes. In a matter of seconds, the monster was a bat, flying for the open window.

_“Remember, my love.”_ The Romanian words whispered in Barry’s mind. _“There is no place you can run from me. We are meant to be. And nothing will come between us.”_

The minute Eobard was gone, Joe and Iris rushed to Barry’s side. Iris wrapped around him protectively, though the count was gone. Wells was standing at the open window, flask in hand. He turned his head a couple of times, like he was expecting Eobard to be lurking around. When he seemed satisfied, he closed the window and locked it.

“What did he say?” Wells demanded, shutting the curtains and moving to the next window to do the same. “Allen, what did he want?”

            Barry opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a low sob. Joe pulled Iris and him into a tight hug, and he could feel his heart rate steady.

            “Me.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it practically reverberated off the walls. Wells turned to face Barry, his face pale. “He was after me.”

0000000

            The group convened in the sitting room, Caitlin joining them to look over Barry’s fresh wounds and check for lingering damage. Iris and Cisco disappeared to the kitchen for a while, eventually coming out with a tray of tea.

            “For nerves.” Cisco explained, handing them each a cup. If anyone noticed the wooden rosary poking out of the teapot, they didn’t mention it.

            “Okay, I’m going to be the first to ask.” Eddie spoke up once everyone settled. “What the hell was that upstairs?”

            Joe and Iris both leaned forward, eager to find out themselves, but Barry felt a wave of dread pass over him. His memories were returning slowly now of his time in Transylvania, his time with Eobard, and honestly, he was terrified.

            “Count Eobard Thawne isn’t what he appears.” Wells explained, taking a sip of tea. “There are things in the unventured regions of our world. The letter that my imposter wrote to Barry was truth—there is a dark force resting in the Transylvanian mountains. For centuries, the villagers lived in fear of it, warding it from their homes and believing superstition to protect themselves. These creatures are called _Nosferatu_ , or vampires.

            “They are demonic beings, not truly dead, but not truly alive either. They live in darkness, using it as refuge during the day. When they wake in the night, they hunt—finding unsuspecting people to drain of blood.”

            Joe raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Look, Wells. I don’t know what I just saw happen in Barry’s room, but I stopped believing in the boogeyman when I was five.”

            “What you believe is irrelevant. Thawne is nosferatu, and he isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants.” Barry could feel eyes on him, and Caitlin took his hand.

            “How long have you known?” Iris asked. “That Thawne was this monster?”

            Wells leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I began suspecting during our first meeting—first, because of his sudden appearance, a long lost relative from Europe who shows up a week after Barry is found. Then, Eddie noticed something.”

            They all turned their attention to the blonde detective, who cleared his throat. “When I opened the cigar box, Barry, Eobard, and Iris were all standing directly in front of the mirror on the inside lid. Iris was the only one properly reflected in the glass.”

            Barry’s heart jumped. “What?”

            “You were still reflected, Allen.” Wells explained. “However, you were fading, almost like you were flickering out of existence. Thawne, however, was missing completely, as coincides with the vampire myth.”

            “And what does that mean for Barry?” Joe asked, stepping closer to his son.

            “I don’t know.” Wells answered honestly. “But nothing good, I’m sure.”

            “I have a question.” Cisco interjected, “If Thawne has had Barry for nearly a year, why has he kept him alive? _Not_ that I’d be complaining, if I were you.”

            “I think Allen is the one that can tell us that.” Wells stared directly at Barry, who squeezed his eyes shut.

            “I…sort of remember…” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. “But most of it’s still a blur.”

            Caitlin’s hand tightened around his. “Take your time, Barry. No one is rushing you.”

            “No, Allen needs to remember.” Wells growled, practically slamming his cup down. “As long as Thawne is around, we’re all in danger. That… _thing,_ isn’t going to stop. Allen knows exactly what he wants.”

            The doctor rose to his feet and stomped over to Barry. He leaned over so their eyes met. “You said after the attack that Thawne was after you. What does he want from you?”

            Barry blinked. “I…I don’t remember.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on his flashes of memory. “I…I remember Thawne. He was the one I met in Transylvania, the one I stayed with.”

Wells nodded as he backed away, listening to Barry’s recounts as he slunk back to his seat.

“He…” Barry frowned. “He didn’t hurt me or anything. He was pleasant and courteous. Until…” A flash of fear struck through him.

_The light of the sunset was bleeding in through the window behind him as Barry searched the drawers of the library desk. The tip of his pen had broken while writing his first draft of the article, so he thought that, maybe, Harrison would have an extra. He hadn’t wanted to wake him to ask, and he couldn’t imagine the doctor disapproving a small search for a pen. So far, his search had proven unsuccessful. He’d looked through every drawer in the library and not one pen._

_He thought back to what Harrison had told him when he arrived, about a private study. Perhaps he kept his pens there? Barry bit his lip nervously—was he willing to incite his host’s wrath over a pen? Then again…he glanced back at the setting sun in the window. He still had about an hour before Harrison usually awoke. Plenty of time to grab a pen and sneak out before he even noticed._

_Barry slunk through the castle cautiously. If Gideon saw him, she’d want to know where he was going, and she’d most certainly tell Dr. Wells where he’d gone. The path remained clear, however, and soon he was at the stairwell to Dr. Harrison Wells’ private wing._

_A flash of fangs…_

_Red eyes…_

 

Barry shook his head, his eyes flying open. “No. I don’t think I want to remember. I can’t…”

Caitlin wrapped her arms around Barry and pulled him to her chest, shushing his panic. Across the room, Iris, Joe, and Eddie were worried. Wells, on the other hand, was annoyed and tired.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I can’t help…I don’t remember.”

The doctor sighed. “I was afraid it would come to this.” He looked to Cisco. “Ramon, we need to force the memories out.”

Cisco’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

Wells’ glanced back over to Barry, shaking in Caitlin’s arms, and nodded. “There’s no other way.”

0000000

Wells ordered all the furniture in the sitting room to be moved around so that the fainting couch by the window was in the center. Cisco pulled all of the curtains closed, blotting out the moonlight that had been shining inside. Then, he moved on to dimming the lamps while Wells motioned for Barry to lay on the fainting couch.

“Alright, Allen.” Wells held out a wooden rosary. “I need you to put this on.”

Barry reached for the beads, but before his fingers touched it, he stopped. He tried again to force his fingers to wrap around the rosary, but it was like every inch of his body was fighting him. “I…I can’t…”

Across the room, he could see a serious expression appear on Cisco’s face, but Wells just nodded. “Miss West?”

Iris approached slowly, and he handed the rosary to her. “If you would place this around Barry’s neck. It needs to be someone he loves and trusts.”

His foster sister nodded uncomfortably. Taking a seat on the edge of the chaise, she draped the rosary around Barry’s neck delicately. The wooden beads itched against his skin. He shifted, wanting so badly to pull on them, but a glare from Wells stopped him.

“Ramon, bring the bag.”

A large, leather medical bag was brought over to them, and Cisco bent down to pull something out. It looked like a lantern of some kind, with a round, glass window in the front. On the side of it was a hand crank.

“Dr. Snow, I need you to stand by in case Allen needs you.” Caitlin nodded, taking Iris’ spot at Barry’s bedside. “Everyone else needs to remain very quiet. I have to be the only one speaking to him, or his mind will get confused.”

Barry frowned. What exactly was Wells planning on doing to him? Cisco moved to the foot of the chaise, lantern in hand, and started turning the crank. The glass window lit up brighter than any lantern Barry had ever seen, and he turned away.

            “Allen, I need you to look at the light.” He could hear Wells saying. He fought to open his eyes and stare into the bright light. It was blinding and painful, but he resisted the urge to look away.

            “Good. Now take three deep, calming breaths. You are safe here.”

            Barry obliged, and suddenly, it was easier to look into the light. He relaxed.

            “Allen?” Wells voice sounded miles away, but was the only thing he could focus on. He sighed.

            “Yes?”

            “I need you to think back on Transylvania. To your time staying there. Can you do that?”

            Barry nodded. He remembered the woman in the village, and the disappearing rosary. He remembered the ride to the castle, arriving in the night…

            “Very good, Allen.” He heard Wells praise. Had he been speaking out loud? “Now, focus on your host. What was he like?”

            Very charming. Very intelligent. His mind went back to the dinner conversations they had, even though Barry was the only one that ate. He was a stimulating conversationalist.

            “But there was something off about him, wasn’t there?”

            Yes. His sleeping patterns were strange. So were the strange thumps and screams Barry thought he’d heard some nights. Sometimes, when he woke in the night, he thought he could see his host standing in the dark corner of his room, watching. But he never got a good enough look. He thought back to the time he’d cornered Barry in the library, when he dug his teeth into his neck and fed…why hadn’t he thought that was strange before now?

            “Focus, Allen. Something happened that caused you to panic. You found something. Try and remember.”

            The pen. He’d been searching for a pen. He’d gone to the forbidden wing of the castle. Barry gasped.

            _He climbed the stairs slowly, avoiding creaky steps and loose boards. When he finally made it to the top, he scurried down the corridor, hoping he wouldn’t be seen. Lucky for him, Harrison’s private study was the first door he tried. He ducked inside and took in the beautiful room._

_It was decorated elegantly, with thick drapes around the windows and beautifully carved bookcases filled with journals and books of all kinds. He walked over to read the bindings, curious about what Harrison liked to read and write about, and frowned._

**THAWNE FAMILY TREE, 1143-1297**

_Why did Dr. Wells have a book of Eddie’s ancestors? He stepped away from the bookcase and over to Harrison’s desk. He needed to find a pen and get out. When he opened the top drawer, however, he found something terrifying._

_First, there was a charcoal drawing of Barry sleeping beside a clipping of his article, a grainy photograph of himself beside the text. Then, there was the rosary he thought he’d lost, wrapped in one of Barry’s handkerchiefs he’d also thought he lost. Finally, he spotted the stack of letters. Every letter he’d written since he’d arrived was wrapped together with a piece of twine, sealed and unsent._

_“I really wish you hadn’t seen that, Mr. Allen.”_

_Barry dropped the letters on the desk and jumped back. Dr. Wells was blocking the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back and a wicked gleam in his eye._

_“You…you never sent my letters.” Was all Barry could say. Dr. Wells shook his head silently, a dark smirk on his face. “Wha…why?”_

_Dr. Wells chuckled. “Why does anyone do anything, Barry?” He stepped into the room, and Barry took another step back. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”_

_Fear clutched Barry’s heart as Dr. Wells moved even closer to the desk. He grabbed the first thing he could find—a letter opener—and pointed it the doctor’s way. The other man didn’t seem intimidated. “You aren’t Dr. Wells, are you?”_

_The other man chuckled. “I knew you were brilliant, Barry. I knew that, eventually, you would figure me out. I must admit, I thought it’d be sooner than now, but then again, you’re so very trusting. No, I’m not Harrison Wells. In fact, if my sources are correct, Dr. Wells is back in America right now. But I knew that he was a renowned scientist you wanted the attention of, making him the perfect bait to lure you here.”_

_Barry kept the letter opener outstretched as he edged his way around the table, away from his host. He swallowed hard. “I’m leaving. Right now.”_

_Fake Dr. Wells raised an eyebrow. “Just like that? You aren’t even curious about_ why _I wanted you here, or who I am? Or why I have a family tree of your sister’s fiancé’s family?”_

_Honestly, Barry was incredibly curious. Enough to hesitate for a second. But then, he thought about the fact he’d been living with a strange man for months, and he was able to compartmentalize. “I want to leave. And you can’t stop me.”_

_The other man’s smirk grew. “Oh, can’t I?”_

_That’s when the impossible happened. The man’s eyes washed red. He drew back his lips and all new teeth grew over his old ones, only these were sharp like fangs. His nails grew out like claws. Right before Barry’s eyes, he transformed into a monster._

_Barry barely had time to scream before the monster was on him._

            “No more…” He felt his lips forming. “Please…I don’t want to remember…”

            “Allen,” Wells voice echoed. “You’re doing amazing. I just need you to remember one more thing—what does Thawne want? What is he after?”

            Barry didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to happen again…

            “What, Barry? You don’t want what to happen again?”

            _The next time Barry woke up, he was a bedroom. It wasn’t the one that he’d been given before—that one had been more furnished and the bed hadn’t had any curtains. This was a new room._

The room from his memories…except something was different.

            _Above the cold fireplace was a portrait. It was of two men, posed elegantly with one sitting while the other stood behind him. The man standing was clearly the fake Dr. Wells, only dressed in clothing from hundreds of years ago. His hand was resting on the shoulder of the sitting man, who was smiling contently, his hand resting almost lovingly on the other man’s. Barry’s jaw dropped._

_The man sitting down was him. Sure, the hair was longer and he was dressed differently, but there was no question that the painting was of him and his host. He tried to jump off the bed, to run as far away as possible, but the clattering of chains stopped him. His arms and legs were chained loosely to the posts of the bed._

_He was trapped._

_“That portrait was commissioned nearly five hundred years ago.” Barry whipped his head around to see fake Wells standing in one of the shadowed corners of his room, watching him. “It wasn’t long after my…transformation. I thought he would reject me, call me a monster, but he stood by me through it all.”_

_“You’re the beast that’s been attacking the villagers.”_

_The corner of the man’s mouth ticked up. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Allen. I’m Count Eobard Thawne, lord of the night.” He approached the bed, and Barry resisted the urge to flinch away when he sat on the edge._

_“Why am I here?” Barry managed to choke out, sliding as far over as possible._

_Eobard tilted his head. “Five hundred years ago, I was cursed to live as a creature of the night—forced to drink blood to survive and banished from the light of day. I wallowed for years in sorrow and self-pity, draining people without guilt or concern. Then, one fateful night, I met Malcolm.”_

_For the first time since he entered the room, Eobard looked away from Barry, his attention now on the doppelganger in the painting. “He made me feel again. He was bright and joyful. He made me laugh. He made me scream. He made me cry. Since receiving my curse, I had never felt as alive as I felt around him._

_“We were happy, for a time. He tried to convince me to turn him, so that we would be together always, but I refused. I couldn’t pass my curse onto someone I loved.” Eobard hung his head. “The people of the town we lived in eventually found out about us. Then, they found out about my secret. They cursed us, calling us unholy, and formed a mob to march on our home. I tried to save Malcolm, but the villagers locked us in and set the house on fire. My curse protected me, but Malcolm died in my arms.”_

_He reached over to touch Barry’s cheek, nostalgia in his eyes, and Barry turned his head away. With a sad smile, Thawne pulled his hand back. “For years I languished in my grief. Then, about a year ago, I read an article in an American publication about strange phenomenon.”_

_Barry held his breath. The article he wrote. The photograph Iris had insisted on. He could see it now—Thawne finding the doppelganger of his lost love, his obsession growing to the point where he had to see him, touch him,_ possess _him._

_“I knew the moment I saw you that it was fate.” The count continued. “That Malcolm had been reborn and returned to me. I researched Bartholomew Allen, sent my spies to watch you, find your quirks and habits. I knew that your foster father would be too aware of you at home for me to come to you, so instead, I lured you to me.”_

_He reached over towards Barry’s face again, but this time, he grabbed the young man by the chin and turned him so they were eye-to-eye. The moment Barry’s eyes looked into Thawne’s, his heart slowed. All of the fight left his body; every instinct telling him to pull away melted._

“Dragul meu.” _Barry heard himself sigh. A smile appeared on Thawne’s face._

_“This time, my love,” Thawne’s fangs extended, and he gently pulled Barry’s head back so that his neck was exposed, “I will give you what you want.”_

_The fangs plunged into Barry’s neck._

Barry threw himself off of the chaise, his mind still stuck in the memory. He needed…he needed… _he needed…_

“Barry!” An arm grabbed his. He hissed viciously at his attacker, a strange weight growing over his teeth, and the woman that grabbed him jumped away.

“Wells, snap him out of it!” A man on the other side of the room ordered, eyeing Barry nervously.

Another male voice overcame him. This one was calming, though, like the voice in your head. “Barry, when I count to three you’ll return. One…two…three!”

Barry was snatched back to the present. Caitlin was nearly cowering in front of him, her eyes wide in fear. Joe and Iris’ expressions were terrified as well, the latter’s hands thrown over her mouth. Wells and Cisco, however, both were watching him solemnly, like they’d expected whatever dark outcome had transpired.

“This is worse than I’d anticipated.” Wells sighed, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “I thought that, perhaps, the count had made you a thrall—a human dependent on a vampire, much like a slave to his master. That, maybe, he planned to use you to achieve his ultimate goal. I didn’t expect you to _be_ his goal, Allen.” He fell back onto the chaise as Cisco began packing up the equipment.

Joe frowned. “What the hell does that mean? You’re just giving up?” 

“I don’t know how to help your son, West.” The doctor snapped, dragging his hands down his face. “Barry isn’t being controlled by Thawne, or being used to do his bidding. You saw the same thing I did—he already almost has exactly what he wants.”

Barry glanced between everyone in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

This time, it was Cisco that answered. “Barry, when Eobard Thawne bit you in Transylvania, he started the process of turning you.”

“Turning me?”

Wells and Cisco shared a look. “Into an undead creature of the night.” Wells answered. “You aren’t a full vampire—you’re what we call a neophyte, a half-vampire. You won’t have any cravings for human blood, you can go out into the sun for short amounts of time, you can walk on consecrated ground. However, anything blessed, such as the rosary I had Iris place around your neck, will chafe and itch your skin. Your body is fighting for life, which is why you’ve remained ill. You’ll only grow weaker, both mentally and physically, the longer you go without turning completely.”

Iris decided to speak up then. “What happens if he doesn’t? Will he get better?”

Cisco shook his head. “No. His body will start to shut down. If Thawne doesn’t finish turning him, he’ll die.”

Joe breathed in sharply, clearly distressed by the news. Barry, on the other hand, was even more confused.

“Why has he waited this long?” He found himself asking. “If he’s had me as his prisoner for a year, why is he waiting until now to turn me?”

“Because,” Wells answered, “when a vampire turns someone, they become almost like a slave to their sire. The person loses all of who they are, becoming a mindless, bloodsucking monster. But, if a vampire were to turn someone during the Harvest Moon, or as it’s also known as the Blood Moon—which happens to be last night, tonight, and tomorrow night—the new vampire would retain who they were in life. Thawne obviously wants to have _you,_ not a mindless slave.”

Relief bubbled inside of him. “That’s good, right? I mean, I stay away from him for three days, then he leaves me alone.”

The looks on the two vampire hunters’ faces said it wasn’t going to be that easy. “Allen, he will find a way to get to you. Or worse, you’ll find a way to get to him.”

Barry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t felt his pull?” Wells asked. “That draw that, even though you shouldn’t do it, you want to so bad you can’t resist.”

Barry swallowed hard. Wells was right. Even now, he could feel Thawne calling to him, trying to draw him away. It was so strong, almost like he was outside…

His breath caught in his throat. “Thawne didn’t leave. He’s still here.”

Everyone went on high alert. Wells grabbed Barry by the shoulder. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. Thawne was outside right now, waiting and watching, calling for Barry to come to him. The wards that Wells put at the entrances after his last attack worked—the vampire couldn’t get in. But, for some reason, the count wasn’t worried. He already had a plan.

Barry searched around the room for something out of place—something the count might have left or taken when he visited. Iris was with Joe, Caitlin was beside him, Cisco was at the end of the fainting couch, Wells was in front of him…

“Where’s Eddie?”

Everyone turned to the doorway where Eddie had been leaning, but the blonde was gone. Joe and Cisco ran towards the stairs to check the upstairs rooms, while Iris and Wells ran out to the garden, but Barry already knew it was too late. Eobard already had him.

0000000

Iris followed Wells into the garden, not knowing what she’d do if she came across Eobard Thawne, but adamant on making him pay if she did.

“Eddie!” She shouted. Wells darted for the statue garden while she ran for the hedge maze. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw fog clinging to the ground of the labyrinth. Without thinking of her own safety, she ran in, following the path deeper inside. The further in she ran, the thicker the fog became, until she came to the center.

There, lying in the fog, was her fiancé. “Eddie!” She dropped to the blonde’s side. He was pale and deathly still, his breathing weak. His eyes, though, were wide open, staring up into nothing. She reached over to take his pulse, but her fingers pressed against something sticky and warm. Blood.

She turned his head to get a better look. There were two marks, identical to the ones on Barry’s neck, covered in blood.

“Wells!” She screamed. “I found him! We need help!”

0000000

They laid Eddie carefully out on his and Iris’ bed. Since Iris found him, the only change in his condition was his breathing weakened even more. His skin was freezing to touch.

Barry stood in the doorway, wringing his hands guiltily. This was his fault. His memories were all there now—his time in Transylvania, Thawne’s plans, their journey back to Central. Thawne was never planning on making his family targets. All he wanted was Barry. In fact, after he turned Barry, he was going to let them ‘find’ him, safe and sound, before Eddie’s ‘long lost relative’ appeared in their lives.

He sighed. The moment he and Thawne stepped foot in Central, Barry started fighting the vampire’s control. He wanted to see his family. He didn’t _want_ to be undead. After two weeks of fighting against Thawne’s thrall, he broke free and ran into the morning light, where Thawne couldn’t follow, not stopping until he collapsed on the front stoop of his house.

If he’d just stayed, none of this would’ve happened.

 Iris hadn’t left Eddie’s bedside since Wells and Joe carried him in. To anyone else, the young woman would’ve seemed like the picturesque of calm. But Barry wasn’t anyone else. He’d known Iris since they were small children—her father raised him after his parents passed, they were practically siblings—and he could see the tenseness in her shoulders, the way she fidgeted with her engagement ring, the way her eyes wouldn’t leave Eddie as if she were afraid that he would disappear the moment she turned.

            Eddie was going to die. He’d already heard Wells and Cisco discussing it with Joe. Thawne hadn’t taken near the care with his descendant as he had with Barry—he forced the Turn on him, luring him into the garden while everyone was distracted by Barry’s accounts of Transylvania, attacking him, and then forcing his blood into the blonde’s mouth. Just the thought made Barry nauseous.

            According to Wells, Eddie only had a few hours before his transformation was complete. There were only two ways to stop it—kill Thawne or bury Eddie with a stake of wood through his heart. They had to kill Thawne before the transformation took hold, or else even killing the count would do no good. And they had no idea where Thawne even was.

            He turned to leave the room, when a sound stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder, knowing that it was too late to track down Thawne.

            “Iris?” Eddie asked. His eyes were focused now, but the color in them was faded. His skin was deathly pale. Barry could feel the change in his bones—Eddie wasn’t Eddie anymore. Iris could see it too, apparently. She rose to her feet, her hands over her mouth, and backed away towards Barry.

            Eddie frowned. “Iris, what’s wrong? Barry?”

            Thinking quickly, Barry grabbed Iris by the arm and dragged her into the hall, closing the door and locking it behind them. Tears were flowing down her face as they listened to the sound of Eddie rising out of bed and approaching the door.

            “Iris? Barry?” Knocking echoed through the thick, wooden door. “Is everything okay? What’s going on? Why did you lock me in?”

            Barry was worried that Iris would reach for the door, would try to let Eddie out. But his foster sister was smart, and instead crossed the hall to lean against the wall. Barry approached her slowly, laying a hand on her shoulder.

            “Iris, I need you to go get Wells.” She raised her head to stare into Barry’s eyes. “We need to take care of this.”

            Iris swallowed hard, but nodded. As she ran towards Wells’ room, Barry felt a swell of sadness. She was so strong—so much stronger than him. She was going to be okay. But he couldn’t let her know what he was about to do. He couldn’t let Thawne hurt anyone else he cared about. Turning Eddie was a message—you or your family.

            He crept down the stairs to the garden door, and out to the maze where Iris found Eddie. The fog was still thick around his body, pressing against him and surrounding him. Thawne was still there. Barry could feel him.

            “I know you’re out here!” Barry called, his breath visible in the mist. “Show yourself!”

            The garden was silent, but Barry knew that Eobard was there. Waiting. Watching. He swallowed hard. Nothing happened. Then, a whisper reached his ear.

            “Dragul meu.”

            He spun around. Standing a few yards behind him, surrounded by fog, stood Eobard. The vampire smiled. _“You remember.”_

Barry nodded. _“I remember everything.”_ He responded in Romanian. _“You held me against my will, manipulated my mind, fed off of me. Now, you’ve killed one of my friends!”_

Eobard sighed. _“It was necessary.”_ He stepped closer. _“Barry, don’t you see? We are tied by the strings of fate. You know it as well as I.”_ He practically glided into Barry’s space. He brushed his fingers along the younger man’s cheek.

            _“If I go with you,”_ Barry whispered, _“will you leave my family and friends alone?”_

Eobard clicked his tongue. _“Of course, my love. They were only ever in danger because of you. They are little people, of no concern of mine._ You _are the one I care about, Barry.”_

Barry squeezed his eyes shut, leaning in slightly to the vampire’s touch that still lingered on his face. _“I will come back.”_

0000000

            Iris was the one to do it. According to Wells, it had to be someone that loved Eddie, someone that held his heart. Her hand shook as her father and Cisco held her dead fiancé’s undead body for her to drive a stake through. 

            An hour later, she was sitting in the parlor with Caitlin while Wells and Cisco buried Eddie. He didn’t have any real family except for the Wests—no one else would miss him. The thought forced a sob into her throat. She would kill Thawne. She would—for what he did to Barry, to Eddie.

            She jumped to her feet when her father came running into the room. “Have you seen Barry?”

            “Not since Eddie…” She swallowed down the sob. Not now. “Not since he sent me to get Wells. I thought that maybe he went to his room or to be alone. He was really upset that Thawne attacked Eddie—like, in that guilt way Barry does.”

            Her father hung his head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

            “Afraid of what?” Wells entered the room with Cisco, both covered in dirt.

            “Barry isn’t in the house.” Iris nearly choked at her father’s words. “I’ve checked every room; I even checked the garden. He’s not here.”

            The room went quiet. “He went to Thawne.” Iris whispered, stating what everyone was thinking. “That’s why Thawne attacked Eddie—to coerce Barry into going with him. We have to save him.”

            Wells sighed and dropped onto the sofa. “Ms. West, I know that Thawne killed the man you love, and I know you want to save Barry, but the chances are we’re already too late. Thawne has probably already turned Barry, and by the time we find where they are hiding, it’ll be too late.”

            A crinkle appeared between Caitlin’s brow, the way it did when she was considering something. “Not necessarily.” Everyone turned to the doctor, who twiddled her thumbs nervously. “I mean, from what Dr. Wells has said, Thawne is only awake at night. But Eddie didn’t wake up until near dawn—the sun is already up now. If what we’re saying about Thawne’s obsession is true, he’ll probably want to take his time turning Barry.”

            Cisco’s face lit up. “Which means that, unless they are literally next door, there’s no way that Thawne could have taken Barry and spent the time with him he wanted before sunrise!”

            The tension that had grown in Iris was starting to weaken. There was a chance. If they could find Thawne before sunset…

            A hopeful smile grew on Wells’ face. “That doesn’t leave a lot of time.” He leapt to his feet and clapped his hands together. “We need to find Thawne and kill him. West?” He turned to Iris’ father, who seemed slightly less worried than he had been before.

            “I’ll hit the streets and ask around about any properties that have been bought recently or that anyone with Thawne’s description has moved into within the last fortnight.”

            Iris nodded. “I’ll talk to my contacts at Central News. They might know something.”

            Cisco raised his hand. “Me, Wells, and Caitlin will come up with a plan to kill Thawne.”

            Iris smiled. Thawne already took Eddie. He wasn’t taking Barry, too.

0000000

            Barry woke up on silk sheets and a downy mattress. He was back—not at the Transylvanian Castle, but in Eobard’s new home in Central, Star Mansion. He was in the same bed Eobard had shown him when they first arrived, the same bed he’d slept in the night before he escaped.

Unlike his last room, his new room was comfortably furnished and decorated in shades of ruby and gold. His bed, though four-poster, lacked the sheer curtains he remembered from his old bed, and there was only one window in the room—a small one with heavy curtains that could be dropped over it quickly. Now, the curtains were drawn back, revealing the red-tinted full moon outside.

Barry sat up, grateful that Thawne had left him in clothes, even if they weren’t the same ones he’d been wearing before. This time, it was his loose-fitting, silk nightshirt that Eobard had gifted him when they arrived in Central. The urge rose to rip it off, but Barry knew that a tantrum would do him no good. He was once again Eobard Thawne’s prisoner, only this time, he’d made the choice willingly. There would be no escape attempts, nor calling for help. And after tonight, he would be Thawne’s forever.

The doorknob jiggling tore Barry from his thoughts, and he practically held his breathe as Eobard entered the room, closing the door behind him. A small smile appeared when he saw Barry watching him.

_“You’re awake.”_ He moved to sit on the edge of Barry’s bed, resting a hand on his bent knee. _“I’m glad. I’d hoped you would awaken before sunrise. Luckily, we’re still many hours away.”_

The vampire’s hand slid up Barry’s leg and, against his will, Barry let out a shuttered gasp. Eobard grinned devilishly at his reaction. He leaned closer, and all of his anxiety trickled away. “Dragul meu.”

Barry knew it had to do with how Thawne had messed with him over the past year, but the words ignited something inside of him. He could feel his breathing growing heavier and, before he could stop himself, he was crawling across the bed to Thawne. Eobard pushed further onto the bed and moved to his knees, groaning when Barry stopped to kneel in front of him, his eyes hooded over and his chest heaving.

_“My love…”_ The count whispered. He wrapped his arms around Barry and pulled him closer. Barry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shake himself free from Thawne’s thrall. If he was going to give himself to a monster to protect the ones he loved, he wanted his mind to be his own.

He heard Thawne chuckle. “You believe that I’ve placed you under some spell. That I’ve somehow taken control of your mind and forced you to want me.” Teeth nibbled on his earlobe and Barry threw back his head to moan. “The truth is, Barry, that all I’ve down is lower your inhibitions. Everything we’ve done, everything we’re _going_ to do, you want deep down. Because, somewhere in your mind, you know that we’re meant to be.”

            Lips brushed against his pulse point. Barry tried not to react, but his hips didn’t seem to get the memo as they bucked forward against Eobard’s. The vampire’s hand traced its way down to Barry’s bare legs, his fingers slipping under the hem of the nightshirt. Barry thought about what Eobard said, wanting to refuse it, argue against it, but then Eobard drew his lips across Barry’s cheek, all the way to his lips.

            _“Stay with me.”_ The vampire whispered.

            Without thinking, Barry lunged forward. Their lips met. Thawne moaned deeply, reaching up to dig his fingers into Barry’s hair. Barry gasped, and Eobard took advantage, deepening the kiss.

            Barry clutched at the count’s shoulders, at the front of his shirt, and suddenly, he wanted it gone. He wanted to trace his fingers up Eobard’s bare skin. As if reading his mind, Eobard pulled away from the kiss sharply and threw his tunic over his head. Instead of returning to Barry’s lips, he started kissing down the front of his throat, his tongue tracing Barry’s Adam’s apple tenderly.

            Barry shuddered. “E…e…. Eobard….” He could hear himself whispering, but all he could focus on was the vampire now sucking a bruise onto his skin, and the hands that were now up the back of Barry’s nightshirt and clutching his backside.

            “ _Yes, Barry_.” The count replied. “ _Say it again. Say it again for me.”_

“Eobard…” Barry groaned. Thawne tightened his grip on Barry, digging his fingers into the firm flesh of his ass. “Eobard!” He gasped, grinding forward. “ _Please…_ ” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for. “ _Please, Eobard…”_

One hand snaked around Barry’s body, and he choked as the vampire took him in hand. “ _Oh, my…_ ” Eobard dragged his hand roughly down Barry, and the young man’s body ignited. “ _Shit._ ” He gasped, scraping his nails down the count’s bare chest.

            Eobard leaned forward, continuously stroking Barry’s length as he buried his face in the crook of the other man’s neck. There was the familiar feeling of teeth scraping against his skin, but like he’d done almost every time Eobard fed in the past year, Barry just tilted his head to give him better access. He didn’t feel any pain or discomfort, only a burning sensation through his body. It was like nothing he’d felt before—erotic and intimate, all too much and not enough.

Eobard’s hand around him tightened, his strokes becoming more frantic, and Barry could feel himself nearing the edge, thrusting into the vampire’s hand.

            He didn’t come until Eobard pulled his fangs free. When he did, he practically screamed with pleasure. He’d never come so hard in his life.

 Eobard leaned back to gaze at Barry, his mouth covered in his lover’s blood. He was waiting, Barry realized. Waiting to see if Barry was going to reject him again.

            _Of course I’m not. He’s threatening my family._ One part of him said.

            _Of course I won’t. I want to be here._ Said the other side.

            At this point, he wasn’t sure he knew which one was telling the truth. So, instead of thinking, he used the hands on Eobard’s chest to push him flat against the bed and moved to straddle his waist. Just like when Wells hypnotized him, he felt a pressure in his mouth, like he had grown extra teeth. Below him, Eobard was watching like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

            Instinctively, Barry dove down and bit into the count’s chest. Eobard threw back his head with a groan, cupping the back of Barry’s head as the young man drank. Barry sucked at the blood and at his skin, feeling his entire body burn and ache as it changed, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wasn’t completely sure he wanted to. 

            Once they finished, Barry collapsed beside Eobard, trying not to think too hard about what he’d just given up.

00000000

            Star Mansion had been in the Thawne family for generations, until it was bought by the Stagg’s. Simon Stagg lived in it for many years, until his body was found a few months before Barry left for Transylvania. Then, a mysterious foreigner purchased it.

            The timeline fit. Everything clicked together. The only problem? The moon had already risen by the time Iris and the others figured it out. Now standing outside of the manor, she feared they were too late. She tightened her grip on the wooden stake Wells had given her. With any luck, she would be digging it into Thawne’s chest and not Barry’s.

            Wells led the way inside, picking the lock on the manor’s servant entrance and letting them all in. The manor was dusty and dark, which didn’t surprise Iris. It wasn’t like Thawne was expecting visitors. In the dust, however, she could see a clearly worn path through the house where Thawne must have moved. When she silently pointed it out, Wells smiled. They crept up the stairs as quietly as possible, Wells in the front, followed by Iris, Joe, Caitlin, and finally Cisco taking the rear.

            As they passed a series of rooms down a corridor, a creak drew Iris’ attention. She laid a hand on Wells’ shoulder to stop him, and they listened out for it again. What they didn’t expect was a screech from the open door of one of the empty rooms, followed by a woman— _a thrall_ —launching herself out at Cisco. Caitlin screamed, grabbing the woman by her hair to throw her off, but the woman just turned to attack her too.

            “Go!” Cisco yelled. “Thawne knows we’re here now! Go save Barry!”

            Neither Joe nor Iris needed more convincing, both practically having to push Wells on to keep him from running to his apprentice’s aid. They followed the path at a quicker pace now, stealth no longer a concern, when they came to a closed door with light underneath. Iris ran past both her father and Wells and threw open the door.

            In the room, sprawled out on a four-poster bed, was Barry. His blankets were pulled up to his waist, but it was clear that he was naked underneath. His face was relaxed and sated, and the marks on his neck were angry red.

            No.

            She pushed into the room to her brother’s side. Unlike Eddie, Barry was conscious, if not completely out of it. His skin wasn’t deathly pale yet, and when Iris laid a finger on his pulse point, it was still faintly going. Iris sighed.

            “We aren’t too late.”

            “I believe you’re much too late, Ms. West.” The door slammed, locking Joe and Wells in the corridor. Iris spun around fearfully, coming face-to-face with the monster that had tried to take everything from her. Who had almost succeeded.

            “Eobard Thawne.” She growled, her fingers tightening around her stake.

            The vampire’s expression was relaxed, unworried, like she was there to talk, not murder him. “I understand your anger, Ms. West.” He assured, leaning against the door. “I didn’t want to kill Eddie—we’re family after all—but everyone kept interfering. Turning him was the only way to ensure that Barry would come back to me.”

            “You’re sick.” She spat, holding the stake in front of her. “You killed Eddie, and now you’re going to kill Barry. But I’ll kill you first.”

            The count sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, Iris. Barry really does love you, and I hate to see how he’ll react when he finds out I had to kill you.”

            Without a warning, Eobard bounded across the room. He was faster than Iris had expected, and before she knew it, he had her pinned on the bed, her stake only an inch out of her grip on the bedspread, with his hand around her throat.

            Now, the monster under the man was evident. His eyes were red. His teeth were sharp like a beast’s. His expression was practically feral, like he wanted to rip her to pieces and eat her. “I’m not going to kill you.” The vampire hissed, leaning down into her space. “Maybe I’ll turn you, too. Give Barry a friend.”

            His breath smelled like death, and Iris had to turn her face away. At the head of the bed, Barry was sitting up now, watching confused, as though he’d been woken up from a dream.

            “How about I make you Barry’s first blood?” Thawne continued. “Let him decide if he wants to stop drinking in time to turn you.”

            He motioned Barry with one finger to crawl to their sides. Iris could see the bloodthirstiness in his eyes. She knew that, once he started drinking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He would drain her. Her fingers twitched for the stake, but she couldn’t even feel the weapon anymore. She squeezed her eyes shut as Barry moved next to Eobard, one hand tucked behind his back, and prepared for the pain, prepared to find out what Eddie and Barry had suffered through.

            What happened, instead, was a loud roar echoed through the room. The weight on Iris’ body fell away, and her eyes snapped open in time to see Eobard Thawne looking at Barry with such betrayal, her wooden stake plunged into his heart.

            Unlike Eddie, Eobard twitched and twisted as he fought his body shutting down. He never stopped watching Barry, though. It was almost like, in his last moments, he wanted to see the face of his true love one more time. It would’ve been sad, if he hadn’t murdered _her_ love. Eventually, his entire body went stock still, before bursting into ash.

Barry stared down at the ashes blankly. His face betrayed nothing of what he was feeling, of the inner turmoil he must have felt. His eyes slid away to meet hers, and a smile grew on his lips.

“Iris…” was all he said before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he passed out onto the bed.

0000000

Everything was a blur after that—Wells broke the door down, and Iris’ father ran in, ready for a fight. When Iris explained what happened, both stared at Barry’s unconscious body in shock. Her father scooped him into his arms and carried him out, clearly grateful his son was alright. They met up with Caitlin and Cisco near the entrance—apparently, they fought off Gideon, the woman from Barry’s letter, and Cisco accidentally pushed her out of a window. When they left, however, there was no body outside the manor.

Barry woke up three days later, confused and hazy about his time with Thawne, but alive, which is really all any of them could have asked for.

“I’m just glad to have you back, Bare.” Iris grinned as Barry climbed out of bed. “Really back, with all this terror behind us.”

Barry smiled back, moving over to his wardrobe to grab a new shirt to change into. “I am, too.” He opened the door, and Iris caught a look at the mirror on his door. Her heart nearly stopped.

Barry didn’t have a reflection.

 


End file.
